


Kiss With a Fist

by orphan_account



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Fighting, First Time, M/M, Marking, Prompt Fic, Rimming, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 05:36:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Monroe get into a fight about taking too many risks. Not all first times are fluffy and sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss With a Fist

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt Fic from Dreamwidth. Original prompt here: 
> 
> http://grimm-kink.dreamwidth.org/3689.html?thread=1929321#cmt1929321
> 
> Title is from Florence + the Machine

“No,” Nick repeated stubbornly, and Monroe let out a sigh that was dangerously close to a growl.

 

“Why is this such an issue for you?” he asked, his voice low, his eyes darting past where Nick had planted himself in front him, blocking his way into the warehouse that was nestled in the very edge of the forest. “It’s not like I can’t hold my own against a bunch of Hyänevolk. They’re excitable, but not that frightening.”

 

“Yea, and there’s like fifty of them,” Nick answered, and put his hands on Monroe’s shoulders, pushing against him very slightly. “You can’t go in there alone.”

 

“Oh, like you could?” Monroe snapped, feeling his inner wolf stir, heating his blood. “At least a Blutbad wouldn’t be too far off from the kind of clientele they usually get. A Grimm is another story, man.”

 

Nick’s eyes were sharp and narrowed. “I’m not going to let you hurt yourself, or fight my fights for me.”

 

Monroe rolled his neck, cracking it, and glared at Nick, who dropped his hands and crossed his arms, obviously teetering on the edge of anger. Monroe curled his lip—Nick had been insufferable recently, had been treating him like he was made of glass ever since the second time the Reapers had come after him. And granted, he still had all the windows on the east side of his house boarded up from the explosion, but he hadn’t been hurt. Well, he hadn’t been hurt badly, though the same couldn’t be said for about half of his antique clocks.

 

He sighed again, letting the growl become more apparent. “Dude, you’re not my keeper. You have no idea what I could do if I wanted to.”

 

“I don’t want—” Nick snapped, then remembered their surroundings and lowered his voice. “I don’t want you have to fight for me.”

 

“Well maybe I do wanna fight,” Monroe growled back, and made to shove past Nick. “There’s only so many times my pride will let me be the bait, you know.”

 

But then he stopped dead when Nick did something rather unexpected—he shoved him back.

 

“You’re not. Going. In there,” Nick ordered, his voice lowered. “I can handle it, go home.”

 

Monroe rumbled deep and dangerous in his chest, but Nick didn’t even blink. “Get out of my way, Grimm,” Monroe said, perfectly aware that his eyes were seeping red at the edges, but Nick’s face just turned harder, almost statuesque, and right now they weren’t friends, weren’t partners, weren’t whatever it was that they’d been dancing around for months—right now they were a Grimm and a Blutbad, staring one another down.

 

The world froze for a moment, and then Monroe jumped. Nick met his tackle with a sharp uppercut to his chin, but Monroe had weight and size on his side. They rolled onto the forest floor with Nick briefly having the upper hand (Jesus but he had a hard punch) but Monroe quickly regained his wits, flipped them, and pinned his arm across Nick’s throat.

 

(It was a mark of something that he was aiming for incapacitation rather than the kill, but the thought didn’t register at the moment.)

 

But then Nick did something odd and wriggly and somehow extricated himself from under Monroe’s arm, throwing out a knee that landed squarely on Monroe’s ribs (he hissed and felt his claws come out a little). They separated for a split second, rising to stand, and then Nick (crazy Grimm that he was) tackled Monroe this time, forcing him back down on the ground. Monroe hit his head on a tree root but barely felt it, concentrating as he was on twisting Nick’s arm just so, throwing him off where he’d landed on his side, protecting his back…

 

Monroe pushed Nick up slightly and threw a punch—made awkward since he was flat on his back on the ground, but it connected none the less—and Nick reeled back. Monroe took this as his opportunity and bolted to his feet, grabbed the front of Nick’s shirt and spun him around, slamming him face-first into a tree.

 

Nick gasped, obviously knocked breathless, but elbowed backward, jabbing Monroe in the stomach. He doubled over and Nick escaped from his grasp, spinning and jabbing at the unfortunate bundle of nerves in Monroe’s back. He yelped and fell to his knees, but twisted and swiped out at the same time, catching Nick’s right leg and yanking him down.

 

Nick fell heavily and Monroe rolled over him, grabbed his wrists, and pinned his hands above his head. They froze, panting, and stared at one another. Monroe had an already forming black eye, and his jaw was bruised. Nick was sporting a cut above his eyebrow and was wincing slightly with each deep inhalation—bruised ribs, maybe. They were both covered in dirt and leaves and bark and as they stared at one another, something snapped.

 

Monroe leaned down and kissed Nick, deep and filthy, tasting blood in both of their mouths. He tightened his grip around Nick’s wrists, and Nick arched up, bringing their bodies into closer contact. Monroe groaned into their kiss, both feeling Nick’s arousal and smelling it mixing with his own in the air, and dropped Nick’s wrists to grab at his waist.

 

So, sex now, he guessed.

 

He got the feeling it wasn’t going to be any more tender than what they’d been doing a few seconds ago.

 

His claws were still out and Nick hissed as they pricked his skin through his clothes. He pushed Monroe off him, only to use the leverage to flip them so he was on top, then bent down and attacked the Blutbad’s neck, biting at the tendons and scraping his teeth across his adam’s apple. Monroe whined and ground up onto Nick’s hard body, was rewarded with equal pressure grinding back.

 

Nick pulled back, tearing at Monroe’s shirt, and said through clenched teeth, “I fucking hate you sometimes.” Monroe laughed darkly and worked his claws under Nick’s shirt. He tugged once and it ripped, falling to shreds on the forest floor, and Nick glowered at him. “Like right now, for instance.”

 

“Shut the hell up,” Monroe growled, and pushed Nick’s hands away in favor of biting slightly at his chest, licking at his nipples, ghosting his canines down Nick’s sternum. But enough teasing—he bit down on Nick’s shoulder, not deeply, but enough to draw blood. Nick bit him back in retaliation, and Monroe was surprised when blunt Human teeth broke skin, too.  

 

Nick breathed out sharply while tearing Monroe’s shirt over his head. “You’re… you put yourself in danger, you can’t do that, Monroe…”

 

“I’m a big wolf, I’ll do what I want,” Monroe snapped back, feeling the anger starting again. He rolled them and grabbed roughly at Nick’s hips. “And right now, I want to fuck you.” He unbuttoned his pants and dropped them just enough to free his dick.

 

The smell of Nick’s arousal intensified, and Monroe’s eyes flashed red again. He yanked down the Grimm’s jeans and boxers in one go, tangling them around his knees, then rolled Nick onto his belly and hauled his hips up. “Is that a problem?” he growled, and Nick shook his head, looking back over his shoulder at Monroe with lust-blown eyes.

 

“Fuck,” Monroe breathed, then leaned down and spread Nick’s cheeks, immediately letting go of his control a bit an allowing his face to lengthen into a muzzle. He speared out his tongue and licked, as wet as he could make it, over Nick’s hole—this was going to be rough, but he didn’t want to damage his Grimm irreparably.

 

A spent only a short minute or so working Nick open with his mouth (Nick was making increasingly more broken noises above him) and pulled back panting. And then he shuffled closer, pushing the head of his dick against Nick’s still tight pucker. “You don’t,” he ground out, and pushed in an inch or two, “need to,” another couple inches, “protect me,” and he snapped his hips forward the rest of the way. Nick moaned, a noise that was clearly a mixture of pain and pleasure, but when Monroe reached around his waist, Nick’s cock was hard and leaking.

 

“Jesus, Monroe,” Nick groaned out, and reached up, grabbing Monroe’s neck and dragging him down. His fingers dug in painfully, finding the bite from earlier and pressing against it, smearing blood along the lines of Monroe’s throat. Monroe growled low in his chest—if Nick kept moving like that (or, oh God, like *that*) this was going to take a laughably short amount of time.

 

So he tightened his grip on Nick’s hips again (inwardly triumphant that these bruises would paint a very different picture of what went down here than any of the others he’d given Nick so far tonight) and held him down, sliding sharply into the Grimm’s increasingly slick hole. He had a moment to be thankful that he’d always produced an almost startling amount of pre-come—it certainly helped to ease the way—before Nick clenched down on him and his rhythm stuttered.

 

“Me me feel it,” Nick ordered between pants, and Monroe set about doing just that, pistoning his dick into Nick’s willing body. But he wanted—what did he want? He pulled out and flipped (a rather surprised) Nick over again, then kneeled, pulled Nick’s pants off the rest of the way, and hauled him into his lap. The Grimm sank down onto him again, his eyes wide, his mouth open in a perfect ‘O’ and yes, that was what Monroe wanted—to see.

 

“Nick,” he breathed, and kissed the man, biting sharply at his mouth, tasting the blood that was drying there and reopening his split lips. Nick bit him right back, then forced his tongue into Monroe’s mouth and latched his arms around his neck, crashing their chests together and trapping Nick’s erection between them. Monroe thrust upward, this new position allowing him to spear directly into Nick’s prostate, and Nick groaned and spread his legs, letting Monroe in deeper.

 

Nick suddenly stiffened and cried out, and it took Monroe a second to realize that he was coming, hot pulses smearing between them. And oh, fuck, he was close, too—he shoved Nick backward off his cock (Nick hit the ground with a pained wumph) and pulled out a second before his knot started growing—he hadn’t asked, and Nick probably wouldn’t want to be stuck to him for an hour afterwards.

 

So instead he stroked himself roughly—just a few quick seconds—and then came on Nick’s stomach. Nick watched for a moment, then spread his fingers through their mixture before catching Monroe’s eyes and lifting his hand to his lips, where he very deliberately licked his palm. Monroe whined and leaned back against a convenient tree.

 

Then Nick pushed himself to his elbows and said, quite calmly, “You’re still not going in there.”

 

Monroe blinked at him, trying to wrap his head around what Nick was talking about, but then remembered—the Hyänevolk, the warehouse… he glanced toward where he could just see the building through the trees. “Yea, well. Neither are you.”

 

Nick shrugged. “Probably not a good idea, yea.”

 

They stared at one another for a drawn-out moment, and then Monroe winced. “Are you all right?”

 

Nick laughed. “I’m fine. Maybe a little beaten up, but I think I gave as good as I got.” He tilted his head. “Well, sort of. That was…” He smiled up a Monroe, who relaxed slightly now that he was sure Nick wasn’t regretting what they’d just done. “Come here,” Nick said, and gestured down to the ground.

 

Monroe slid down and lay next to Nick, who tangled their fingers together. “So,” he said, and Nick nodded.

 

“You know,” Nick said suddenly after a minute or two of silence, “I always figured our first time would be rough, but you may have broken one of my ribs.”

 

Monroe rolled over and hovered over Nick uncertainly. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” But then he blinked and thought about that sentence. “Wait, you’d thought about this?”

 

“Like you haven’t,” Nick snorted. “There was so much sexual tension between us, it could have overwhelmed a Ziegevolk.”

 

They lapsed into silence again until Nick tightened his grip on Monroe’s hand. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

 

Monroe sat up and pulled his hand away. He shook his head and fumbled with his pants, jerking them up. He cast around for his shirt, but Nick grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Goddamn it, Monroe, stop.” He sat up too, his serious expression somehow not lessened any by the fact that he was naked and covered in both of their come.

 

“I dragged you into this,” Nick said softly, and Monroe snorted. Nick narrowed his eyes. “No, shut up and listen.” Monroe crossed his arms, but raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Nick continued, “You were being good, minding your own business, and then I burst in and now you’re… You’ve been attacked a dozen times now, just because you’re helping me. I feel so… guilty, I’m ruining your life.”

 

Monroe regarded him silently for a moment before reaching past him and gathering up his jeans, which were miraculously not ripped. He handed them to Nick, who quickly pulled them up while Monroe located his shirt and shrugged it on. Nick contemplated the shreds of his own shirt, and decided to abandon it as a lost cause after using it to wipe off his stomach. Finally, they stood, still in silence, and Monroe placed a gentle (if slightly proprietary) hand on Nick’s back, guiding him toward where they’d parked.

 

They were both limping slightly (Nick a bit more than Monroe) and Monroe was certain they’d turn heads if anyone saw them. He hoped they wouldn’t attract the attention of any cops on the way home. He didn’t want to come up with an explanation for a beaten, bloody, and half-naked Nick Burkhardt in his car.

 

They walked in silence down a narrow path back to the car, and once the path widened a bit—enough for them to walk side by side—Monroe started talking. Nick actually jumped when he broke the quiet, but Monroe was caught up in his thoughts and barely noticed.

 

“Do you know the success rate of weider blutbad? Or any weider wesen, actually,” Monroe asked, and Nick slowly shook his head. Monroe went on. “Zero. We never… I mean, we always go back. It’s almost impossible to push aside our instincts—you’ve got no idea.”

 

“Monroe…” Nick touched his arm lightly, looking upset, but Monroe was on a roll and needed to get this out.

 

“You are infuriating, naïve, close to useless sometimes—” he waved his hands in annoyance, and Nick smiled slightly.

 

“Hey, now…” he said quietly, and Monroe gave him a withering look, made less harsh by the soft tone he used when he continued.

 

“I feel like, when I’m working with you, I have a chance to stay on the path of the straight and narrow, man. My whole reformed life, it’s always been like I’ve barely been hanging on, but since I met you? The other day, a girl ran by my house wearing red, and I… I didn’t even blink.”

 

“That’s great,” Nick said with a wide smile, and Monroe shrugged.

 

“I couldn’t promise what would happen if you showed up wearing red, though.” He paused, looked Nick up and down. “You’re very… distracting.” Nick grinned at him, and Monroe swallowed.

 

 “It’s just… everything’s all screwed up around you, but without you—” he stopped on the path, and Nick turned to him. Monroe reached out and pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him.

 

“Look, I know your life is dangerous, and I get that you don’t want me hurt ‘cause of your Grimm-ness or whatever, but whatever you’ve done to me, it helps. It’s working. And you can’t treat me like… I don’t know, like I’m breakable—”

 

“You are breakable,” Nick interrupted.

 

Monroe sighed. “No more than you are. Less that you are, in fact. But—listen. Promise me that you’ll call for backup and not go into situations where you’ll be trapped or in danger without someone else. Me, preferably.” Nick stared up at him, and Monroe rolled his eyes. “And I’ll promise the same, sure.”

 

“I’m terrified I’ll lose you,” Nick said softly. “I’ve lost everyone else.”

 

Monroe reached out and gently touched his bite mark on Nick’s shoulder. “There’s no getting rid of me, not after…”

 

“All right,” Nick said softly. “I promise.”

 

“We should also maybe avoid solving future disagreements with fists,” Monroe muttered, and worked his jaw, which was beginning to ache.

 

“That is a little counterproductive,” Nick agreed, and turned, slipping his hand into Monroe’s and tugging him toward the car. “Let’s go. I’d say you owe me dinner.” Monroe smiled and followed his Grimm out of the forest. 


End file.
